Last night I was invited to a Girlsâ Night Out at a pretty cool bar in Los Feliz. Itâs a brand new place, as yet undiscovered by celebrities and their sycophants, and it was deserted for a Thursday night. The interior is vintage Chris Craft: think redwood strips, portholes, old prints of boats from the 1940s. It was really nice, and the owner Michael was very friendly. They made a lovely + refreshing vodka tonic with lots of lime and ice, and the best part: delightfully solicitous service.

On the way back home, rollinâ in Hilaryâs very stylish 1965 Ford Fairlane, I mentioned that I recognized someone from yoga in the Weekly that day. So she says, âIs it a woman whoâs a comedian?â So I say yes, howâd you guess? And Hilary says that sheâs seen her at yoga classes, and actually saw her perform once because she opened for Julia Sweeney. Apparently this Striped Meanie goes on and on in her act about her yoga practice. I was sort of stunned and told Hilary that she was a jerk in class actually, and that I was shocked â SHOCKED â to discover that she actually makes her living being funny as she was such a colossal jackass to me. But the best part was remembering that on Wednesday night, I actually witnessed her being mean to another student who just happened to be Cordelia from âBuffyâ and âAngel.â The Striped Meanie walked up to the front of the studio, flung out her mat, then proceded to reprimand Cordelia about her mat placement. This was not a gentle, âhey, do you think you could move your mat a bit?â or a âwould you mind moving back a little?â No this was a full-on officious âYou know, thereâs a system to how we put the mats down.â Then she made up some flimflam explanation for how the mats are supposed to be lined up, blahblahblah. Rude! Cordelia just sort of looked at her, like, âare you for real, freak?â and let it drop.